Yesterday, while playing bumper carts in Wegmans, fearful I wouldn’t find shredded carrots (oh, the agony of having to shred with my own hands!) I fumed at carts left unattended, blocking the chicken stock I needed.

My desire to ram into the young man idling across two lanes in the baking stuff aisle could barely be checked.

And the crackers! Where was the damn brand of crackers I needed for my stuffing?

And then, in a Thanksgiving miracle, I broke through my self-centered me-me-me and gave myself a mental slap upside my head.

The aisles were filled—spilling over—with an abundance of food. I would sacrifice nothing by buying what I needed to cook to my heart’s delight. I had two hands to chop, two legs to walk on, and too many blessings to count.

After weeks of raging against the injustices surrounding us, I took a deep breath. I smiled with rue at the woman also waiting for the frowning woman examining two kinds of canned corn (of course, blocking our path.)

“Heck of a time to shop,” I said.

She nodded in agreement. “I meant to come yesterday.”

“Me too. I should have come last night. But I got lazy.”

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yup. Me too.”

And just like that, I remembered that this moment of crowded shopping should be the worst thing ever happening to me. I looked around and remembered that everyone was the star of their own show.

I was their annoyance.

I needed to pull up my gratitude and stop my weasely thoughts.

It’s like this, I reminded myself: When you look at a picture someone took of you yesterday, you think,”

• I look fat!
• I look old!
• I look wrinkled!

Ten years later, you look at the same picture and think:

• Damn, look how good I looked.

My Thanksgiving resolution is this: Not to be blind to what I have, have and exude more generosity of spirit, and smile at lots more strangers without worrying if they smile back at me.